


In My Heart, I Have But One Desire

by femslash



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femslash/pseuds/femslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is kind of a prequel to "you can be kind, i know"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Heart, I Have But One Desire

Six always aimed for the head. Veronica noticed this one of the first times that she had taken her out on a job. Didn’t matter who – or what – she was shooting, didn’t matter if she was really too far away to hit such a small target. She always aimed for the head.

Veronica assumed it was motivated by her own near-death experience. Getting shot in the head was bound to have had some weird effects on Six. And hell, Veronica insisted on punching people rather than shooting them, so who was she to judge Six.

Both methods proved to be effective when it came to dispatching Legion assassins. The hot afternoon sun beat down on them, as Six searched the corpses for anything useful. “How the fuck do the ears always come off,” she muttered, carefully pulling a helmet off an anonymous soldier’s head.

Veronica snorted. She absentmindedly wiped sweat off her forehead as Six shoved all the loot she could fit into her pack. The ex-courier held out her hand, asking Veronica to help her up.

Once she was on her feet, Six took off her shirt, pulling it over her head in a fluid motion. She wiped the sweat of her chest with it, saying “Jesus, it’s hotter than a goddamn radioactive crater today.” Veronica could feel a blush spreading across her face. This wasn’t the first time Six had taken off her shirt on a hot day, but it still always took her by surprise.

The Brotherhood were big on modesty, hence the ridiculously unflattering robes that most members wore. But Veronica had been in the Wastes long enough that nudity really didn’t bother her anymore. Most of the ranchers she’d passed didn’t bother with shirts either, regardless of gender. Not to mention the constant barrage of nearly-naked women in Freeside and New Vegas (not that Veronica really minded that). Still, it was different with Six. Something about those lean muscles and broad shoulders.

The ex-courier stuffed her shirt in with the rest of her pack, and gave Veronica an odd look. “You need some water? Your face is really red, Veronica,” she said, with a look of legitimate concern on her face. Veronica just shook her head, to which Six replied, “Can’t you at least take off the fuckin’ hood? It’s over a hundred degrees out, you must be boiling in that thing.”

Veronica hesitated. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to take off her hood outside unless absolutely necessary. But Six had a point – even without the hot flush spreading across her face, she was boiling under the hood. So she pulled it back, enjoying the sudden breeze across her face. The older woman just grinned at her.

“There, now you can show that pretty face off.”

The scribe inhaled sharply at that, faking a cough to cover it up. Six’s grin disappeared off her face, replaced with that same concerned look. She placed a hand on Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica couldn’t help but notice how scarred her hand was, and the faded black tattoos depicting God-knows-what on her upper arm.

“I think maybe we better just head back to the Lucky 38. Come here, I’ll help you up.”

Veronica just nodded as Six wrapped one of Veronica’s arms around her neck, followed by one of her arms around Veronica’s torso. The younger woman really didn’t need help walking, but like she was going to argue with this situation. Six felt secure around her, comforting. Veronica could feel her heart racing in her chest due to the proximity. She hoped Six couldn’t.

Sooner than she would have liked, they arrived at the gates of New Vegas. As they walked towards the Lucky 38, one of the girls at Gomorrah yelled out.

“C’mon Six, when are you gonna hold me like that?”

The scribe felt herself tense up. Good thing – the girls at Gomorrah were jealous of how Six was holding her. Bad thing – the girls at Gomorrah knew Six’s name. It was technically possibly that they simply knew her name because of her reputation, or it was possible that Six frequented more than the bar at Gomorrah on her nights out with Cass and Boone. That did add a point to her theory that Six was into girls. It also meant that Six was likely not into girls like her.

Six, to her credit, did not respond to the heckler, and instead just walked up the steps of the 38, arm still around Veronica. Once they were through the door however, Veronica removed her arm, and darted to the elevator.

“Well, thanks for your help boss.”

She thought she could hear the still shirtless ex-courier start to say something as the elevators closed, but decided she had imagined it. As the pre-war elevator began it’s slow descent, Veronica realized that her fists were clenched. She shook her head. She had no right to be mad at Six. So what if Six wasn’t attracted to her? So what if Six enjoyed the company of the jetheads at Gomorrah? Six wasn’t her girlfriend, so whom she fucked didn’t affect Veronica.

She couldn’t help but think about the girl at Gomorrah though. About Six, her head between some random girl’s legs, her scarred hands gripping at some junkie’s waist-

The elevator doors opened with a ding. Veronica head straight to her bedroom, not noticing if there was anyone in the main room. She shut the door behind her. Technically, she shared this room with Cass, but Cass was visiting some old caravan friends this weekend, leaving the room unused.

Veronica dropped her pack on the floor, left her boots by the door, and put her power fist back in her weapon’s locker. She pulled her robe over her head. She thought about Six undoing the laces on one of the girls at Gomorrah, pulling apart the leather tops. She pushed the thought aside. She emptied out her pack on one of the tables while in her grey tanktop and shorts, thinking bout Six pulling her own dingy grey tanktop over her head, and using it to tie the wrists of some anonymous girl and-

She stopped. Her hands were shaking, and her legs felt weak. The presidential suite was almost totally silent – everyone must have either been gone or sleeping. She glanced back at the door of the room. It was still shut tight. She quickly undressed; dropping what little clothing she had on her bed. Then, slowly, she lay down on her bed. She began lazily tracing the outline of her lips, conjuring up that imagine of Six with her head between a stripper’s thighs. As she rubbed her clit, she thought about how strong Six had felt pressed against her, about how she smelt of fire and liquor and gunpowder, and how deftly her fingers moved when she repaired one of her guns. She thought about Six’s hands against her waist, whispering how pretty she was in her ear, pinning her to the wall. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Six’s fingers penetrating her, not her own.

It didn’t take long for her to cum. She hadn’t jerked off in a long time and something about the combination of shirtless Six and inexplicable anger had resulted in her being very turned on. Veronica had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from yelling as she came. She doubted anyone was around to hear it, but considering she was all too familiar with how Boone and Arcade sounded while fucking, it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. As the pleasure subsided, she pulled her clothing back on. She washed her hands in the sink, and sighed. Maybe it was time she considered paying a visit of her own to Gomorrah. There had to be at least one buff girl there with a shaved head and scars.

Several floors above her, Six sat at her desk, reading through files on her PipBoy. She kept thinking about how heartbroken Veronica had looked as the elevator doors had closed. Six couldn't help but also think about how nice she looked with that goddamn hood pushed off her face. She began lazily stroking her thighs.


End file.
